


The Danger of Peace

by SirJosephBanksFRS



Category: Aubrey-Maturin Series - Patrick O'Brian
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 10:30:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1547414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirJosephBanksFRS/pseuds/SirJosephBanksFRS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen bends a promise to Diana and is put under the harrow for it and his very deep affection for Jack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Danger of Peace

Diana did not immediately take Stephen and Jack's announcement that they would be leaving for Chile with the equanimity that Stephen had hoped. The sudden news was the cause of one of the sharpest and most bitter though short-lived disagreements they had ever endured. In the blue drawing-room of Woolcombe, he had looked into her face and at her reaction to his words that they would be merely six months to a year away and despite her silence amidst the clamor, he had seen the plain disbelief and dismay that she could dissimulate away before everyone else but not him. He had observed that she had not appeared one iota happier at his and Jack's declaration that they would be at liberty for many months, indeed, the better part of a year whilst _Surprise_ was at Seppings’, then whilst she was being fitted out. Neither was she happier at the announcement at dinner that all would be off for an adventure to Madeira after Christmas. Stephen had known he was in for some very sharp words once they were alone.

He had been relieved that Jack's last command had been in _Bellona_ in the squadron blockading Brest, for it had spared him that conversation concerning their next long term separation, the first since Ireland, since she had begged him never to go to sea again. He found now to his great unhappiness that Diana's belief had been that given the end to the hostilities, the two of them would be leaving for France forthwith to stay there long term as they had previously discussed when he had found her at last in Ireland.  
  
Her immediate disappointment was cruel and had put her far out of spirits for the moment. When he explained to her the plans for _Surprise’s_ hydrographical voyage as they sat alone together in Woolcombe’s beautiful library, sipping a fine claret, she was as put out as he had ever seen her, her face becoming dark as a line of squalls on the horizon. He again quickly brought up their proposed trip to Madeira to little effect. She was clearly very angry and he knew with her sharp tongue he would be put under the harrow again imminently. He did not have to wait long. He said something about Jack and her eyes flashed with barely suppressed ire and she put her glass of claret down.

"It is amazing, Maturin -- do you know that I never actually believed in the existence of true love until I saw you and Aubrey in the pursuit of love in a cottage at Melbury after he was initially ruined? Then I learned how very wrong I had been all those years, assuming that it was merely myth and could not exist, seeing the two of you together. For richer, for poorer, indeed; in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live, til death you do part. I only wish you had half the thirst for my company that you have for Jack’s," Diana said bitterly.

"Diana..." he said miserably.

"Chile -- why? You have not been home one day and you have already planned to be off again. Why, Stephen? Why Jack should and indeed must go is evident, but why you and why it must be now when you gave me your solemn oath, your supposedly sacred word in my bed in Ireland, where we agreed that as soon as the war ended that we should go to Paris?"  
  
He said nothing. He had, in fact, forgotten that specific aspect of his promise, distracted as he was in the moment and thinking the promise more when he was at liberty after the war had ended, not to be interpreted as at the very moment of the drying of the ink on a peace treaty. That detail had been trivial to him, whereas clearly to her now it was of the first importance. Any attempt to explain that there had been a simple misunderstanding in that moment would revive many unhappy memories and would be very poorly received indeed, he knew and he thought it best to attempt to smooth things over by repeated abject apologies.  
  
"Your last voyage outside of the Channel was interminable. I thought I should never see you ever again. God knows I am not one of those women, one those women with hysteria and the vapours, one of those clinging vines, Maturin, no one could ever say that about me, but I did not marry you so I could spend years upon years alone. Have I balked at all during this last commission? I have not, not in the least. But I had no notion that you might be putting to sea for the Pacific again, with the war over. I had no notion that I should be spending more long years alone for no real reason at all this time, save your undying love for Jack. It was almost four years the last time you left."

"If I might so express myself, my dear, no, it was not. You had gone to Ireland. I would have seen you far sooner had you not left. Do not misunderstand me, _a chuisle,_ this is not in any way a reproach, not for anything in the world, only an explanation." He saw immediately that he had offended her further, his explanation be damned and he regretted it.

"Three years then -- three years! Was that not a very long time? That is why I said you must never go to sea again when you finally found me in Ireland. That is why I wanted to keep you in my bed for a month, hoping with proper experience you might consider of it and not leave me for year after year, for another almost half a decade again. Some day you shall leave me, Stephen and then come home and find me a very disagreeable, ugly old woman and you shall say with quite thick woolly-headed wonder, "what in the world ever became of Diana? How ever did she get so old and so ugly?" There is no reason that you, yourself must make this trip. You have been to Chile before and seen much of it, you have naturalised there. We do not need the money from your salary. _Surprise_ will make income with or without you aboard. Knowing Jack, he will somehow end up taking pirates and prizes, hydrographical research voyage or no. Bonaparte is defeated. Jack can certainly sail without you. He managed to get by for the first twenty-six years of his life sailing without you. You are not the only surgeon in the Royal Navy, though you would never take a voyage without him, for he is your Navy of one, your Theseus or Perseus or whomever." He sighed. He had never felt more frustrated by his need for secrecy about his intelligence activities, frustrated especially because this expression of jealousy, however facetious, hit all too close to home, all too close to the reality of the intimate aspect of his friendship with Jack. He wondered at her referring to Theseus and Perseus and he restrained himself from any expression of defensiveness or displeasure. Oddly, it was truer than she would ever know; Jack had rescued him from French counterintelligence agents in Port Mahón in a feat worthy of either hero.

"Villiers, if I did not know better, I should say you were jealous," he said mildly, feigning a disinterested calm he did not feel.

"Are we no longer married?" she said, her eyes flashing. "Have we already divorced so that you and Aubrey might wed at last? Have I thus reverted to "Villiers?""

"For all love, I ask your pardon, my dear Mrs Maturin. It is the mere force of habit of many, many years as you well know. Pray forgive me. Upon my honour, I am very flattered that you desire my company so very greatly. Frankly, it astonishes me. I have always feared that you tire of my presence when subjected to me unremittingly, that I am a dull companion day in and day out, my dearest soul."

"Stephen, why shan't you sit this voyage out, just this once? We might pack our things to go to Paris right now. Sophie would be very happy if we left Brigid with her, with Clarissa attending to her. It will be such a lark, such relief, such delight at last. We might even stay with dear, dear de la Mothe."

"Honey, this will most likely be the last commission Jack will undertake for a very long while, indeed, perhaps ever, given the vagaries of the Admiralty and the ever changing situation in Whitehall. Sure, he may never rise to true flag rank and a squadron with the peace now. I swear to you upon my word that when we return that you and I will go to Paris and we will stay as long as ever you might wish."

"What if it were I doing the leave-taking, sailing off with Jack for three or four years? What if you were left with Sophie and Aunt Williams? Can you imagine anything more dreadful? Not Sophie, of course, but Aunt Williams, Stephen, think of it, imagine that! That is why I bought her that place in Bath, so we might have some peace from her endless hectoring but she does not stay there, unfortunately. God's my life, Maturin, it is a goddamned terrible thing being a woman," she said, shaking her head. "Dear God, if the Hindustanis are correct, I pray that I might be reincarnated someday as a man."

"You need not stay out in the country if you do not wish it, my dear, never in life. Go to London if you wish, set up housekeeping wherever you like. There is nothing to stop you, joy. Money is no object. You might set up your Arabian breeding concern in all its glory once more if you wish. You might even go to Paris after Madeira and decamp with de la Mothe, I am certain of it."

"But I want to go to Paris with you, Stephen, as you promised, not alone. Could we not have one whole year in Paris together before you sail off into the sunset with your lord and master? Can you not be so unfaithful to him as to let him find another surgeon for one damned sea voyage so that you might be with your own wife for once? Are your sacred marriage vows to him so very constraining?" He looked at her coldly, his anger rising. "Truly, Maturin, is his company so much more pleasing than mine? Does being with him never get dull? Him laughing so hearty at his own poor wit, after all these years shut up with him in close quarters with his "ho, ho, ho, Stephen, there, did you happen to hear this prodigiously droll story I have told you at least a thousand times? Here's an uncommon fascinating tale about a piece of most irregular sailcloth I saw on _Hypatia_ , seventy-four guns, back in the year nine. My heavens, shall I tell you yet another captivating anecdote about how very great the noble and godlike Viscount Nelson was when I had the very great honour and privilege of serving under him at the Battle of the Nile?"" He pursed his lips in displeasure he could not hide, as he felt himself involuntarily bristling with anger. "So, he does not? You never tire of him after fifteen years? All of his "hail fellow well met" never annoys you nor becomes a goddamned bore?" He was silent a very long time, seeking to calm himself, to appear as unperturbed as he might as her words roiled him far more deeply than he would have guessed.

"Jack is no longer the overgrown boy, as you once put it, that I met in Port Mahón," Stephen said, finally. "He had a very severe injury to his eye off the coast of Peru. I do not like to talk of it with you nor anyone, as I should never speak of any of my patient's conditions to anyone but another medical man, as you well know. I collect that you are not aware that he is almost completely blind in that eye now. The trifling vision he has is of such poor acuity that despite his ability to detect light with it, the eye is near useless and he will, in time, most likely completely lose what little vision it still possesses. You do not know it to look at him. I fear very much for him now, that he might occasion an extremely dangerous accident because of it. Call me an insufferable conceited fool if you will, my dear, but no, I do not choose to trust his health to men who came to the profession of surgeon via the abattoir. What might become of him at their hands after such an accident, the Dear knows. Diana, Jack is the only reason I am alive, many times over, so many times I have lost count and more importantly, he once saved my most beloved's life in Boston as well. I had never thought you ungrateful, Diana. I think you forget yourself, my dear. Well, we all have our faults. I fear that I myself am all too frequently peevish, ill-tempered and deeply resent presumption of any kind, no matter what the underlying intention, I daresay," he said, looking at her sharply. She looked at him, her sapphire eyes flashed and her mouth tightened. "We shall go to Madeira early in the new year and then to Paris when I return, Diana, my love, I promise you. Pray do not be cross with me. I might make it with you to London now if you wish, before I must go with Jack to check on _Surprise_ again." She rose from the settee.

"There is no need, Stephen, pray do not trouble yourself so. My cousin, Cholmondeley shall be here in a day’s time. I shall go to town with him," she said and she quickly excused herself and left the library. He could see how very angry she was. He hoped that it would blow over quickly. He did not want them to part on bad terms the next day.

It was an unseemly conversation, almost the most unseemly they had ever had. Diana was not by nature jealous, he thought, but on the other hand, he had given her precious little reason for any usual jealousy over the years. Yes, there had been that unfortunate incident in the Mediterranean with Laura Fielding, but she had professed it was the matter of being publicly humiliated, not sexual jealousy.

But this very unbecoming display over Jack -- he sighed. He was not about to be told with whom or how he could spend his time by anyone, under any circumstance. He gave her the very same latitude. There was the niggling feeling of something he found hard to name -- could it be guilt? -- but he dismissed it. He did feel very badly about her disappointment, about bending, if not breaking his word to her. He could not explain to her that it was he himself who had put the gears into motion for the expedition long before Bonaparte's abdication and that he had no notion that he was breaking his word to her by so doing. Once again, for the sake of his intelligence work he had been forced to lie to her via omission.

This trip was part of his intelligence work. His purpose was to effect the weakening of Madrid and Castilian hegemony on the Iberian peninsula and thus further of the cause of Catalan autonomy. Diana could not know that. The fact that he happened to be engaged in that pursuit with his particular friend and that it might conceivably benefit his particular friend was of no real account, for he had travelled the length and breadth of Spain alone to effect the same end.

Neither were his relations with Jack here nor there, except for the sting of Diana’s words. Every time she had ever uttered anything like them since he and Jack had returned from India, he had felt a momentary stab of uneasiness but that was his extreme secretive nature, the same as every reaction he ever had when she spoken of his reserve, his closeness, his tendency to be cryptic upon occasion, of how absurd it was that the French had ever taken him for a spy. He had wondered in the last if there were the least hint of knowing irony or sarcasm. Just as she had no idea he was an intelligence agent, she clearly had no conception of what existed between Jack and himself. He poured another glass of claret, rubbed his eyes and dove back into his volume of Pliny the Elder, hoping she would compose herself enough for them to reconcile before the morrow.

Stephen did not share her bed that night, keeping to his room. Under the circumstances, he thought it best to give Diana her space after their argument. The next day, she appeared late for breakfast, beautifully dressed and sat next to him, all signs of their having disagreed now gone. They breakfasted alone as it was so very late -- they had both apparently slept poorly that night. They sat lingering over their coffee and he asked her if she would come outside with him whilst he smoked. She agreed and they went out and she begged him to share his cigar with her. He crumbled, rolled and lit one for her and she took a deep drag and then spoke quickly.  
  
“I expect that Cholmondeley shall be here around dinner and then we leave afterwards for town. I shall be looking at some horses on the way back. I shall be back in about ten days or so, Stephen. About Chile -- well, I shall set some of the fishermen's wives to work at once, knitting you really thick under-shirts and drawers of unbleached wool,” Diana said. She kissed him quickly. “I must go make some arrangements now with Clarissa and Sophie,” she said as she took her leave of the garden. He watched her walk away and then he briskly set off to look for Jack.


End file.
